


Along The Way (The Time Has Come)

by laurelgreengrass (DontDrinkColdCoffee)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, Fights, HP: EWE, M/M, Muggle Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontDrinkColdCoffee/pseuds/laurelgreengrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter's decision to attend Muggle University hasn't been an easy one and unlikely to be taken at all, had he known the first person he'd come to associate with college life was Draco Malfoy.<br/>In retrospective though... there are worse things that happened.<br/>Or: The one were all the important stuff happens in the kitchen, until the really important stuff happens in the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along The Way (The Time Has Come)

**Author's Note:**

> The problem with joining a fandom so late is that all the hype is gone.  
> I will, however, declare once again, that I do not own the characters JKR created for the Harry Potter series, I just used them for my own pleasure. 
> 
> I can't tell if the spells and charms used in this fic are very reliable, as I translated them from Latin myself. 
> 
> Oh, and one more thing: This fic follows [this headcanon](http://ink-splotch.tumblr.com/post/83938193443/maedhrys-harry-disappears-from-the-wizarding), which is not necessary to read to follow the story, but it's a nice headcanon and reading it has improved my day (yeh, well, and inspired this fic).  
> Also, while this story would canonically be set in 1998, it somehow slipped into the 2010s. You'll notice. :)

„These are the keys to your flat that you'll be sharing with four other people, this one's for your room and that's for the main entrance. I wish you a brilliant academic year and hope you enjoy your stay here at college!“, the friendly girl at the reception has told Harry while handing him his keys and pointing out the direction to his college flat.

Coming back to London has been both a relief and a confusion for Harry until now. For one, because a year in America has not provided him with the distance from the war's events he had wished for. And then, because now all the wizards seem to be hunting him down like wolves, so much so that not even Ron has enjoyed hanging around with him lately.

So this is how he finds himself starting an education at a Muggle university, living at college with Muggles, because whatever weird and eccentric people he might meet here, they are sure not to shower him in gratitude, call him a “hero” and ask about his love life to print an article about it in the 'Evening Prophet'.

Well, maybe ask about his love life. But not for publication purposes.

Before Harry can open the flat door, it is yanked open by a small girl with fierce, black smudged eyes and blue hair.

“You must be Harry!”, she says and shakes his hand, “Come in!”

She ushers him inside and takes his duffel bag. “I'm Cora, nice to meet you. We'll be flat mates this year, thanks to the elaborate “arrangement of living spaces” the College Council has worked out.”

She winks at him and nudges his arm before he can say a word. “You know, two freshmen, two people from second year to look over them and someone from third year to bitch about.”

She laughs, and while her stream of words is overwhelming for Harry, he immediately takes a liking in her. She obviously likes to be prepared and on top of things like Hermione (and well, apparently showing it, too), but is also easy-going and friendly, if not a tad weird. Someone everybody likes but who doesn't make a fuss about it, and that's what Harry was wishing for. Somebody... uncomplicated.

“Your room's at the end of the hall”, she points out, “bathroom is over here, there's the kitchen and our 'shared space', with telly and all. I'm still waiting for Laura, the other freshman, but you can go and get friendly with Nate – that's Mr. Thirdyear – and Luke, the other nutter who is supposed to be looking after you.”

“Thanks”, Harry manages to say finally and takes his duffel bag from her.

He walks over to the kitchen without the nauseous anticipation he felt before Cora had welcomed him. These are just nice people he is going to share a flat with. It's almost like his house at Hogwarts. Maybe even more like family, because nobody will snap pictures of him and ask for his autograph.

There is laughter emerging from the kitchen, so he inhales deeply and braces himself for a few moments of awkward introduction.

There are two blokes in the kitchen, a taller, blonde one in black skinny jeans and a gray cardigan, leaning against the sink and turned away from him, laughing about a joke the other in a deep blue hoodie has just told, who spots Harry immediately:

“Hey there, you're Harry, right?” He shakes Harry's hand. “I'm Nate, and this is Luke-”

“Luke!?”

The duffel bag slips from Harry's arm with a loud thump. The guy who was leaning against the sink has now turned to him, so Harry sees a haughty, pointed face with gray eyes that are quickly schooled into an expression of polite indifference after a second of surprise and leave nothing to be mistaken: The person standing in front of him is clearly Draco Malfoy.

A Draco Malfoy who is casually drinking tap water, calling himself 'Luke', wearing his hair in a downright quiff and standing in a _Muggle College Kitchen_ laughing about some stranger's joke, but Draco Malfoy nonetheless.

“Harry.”, comes the uncomfortable, but somewhat warm response together with an awkward smile. And if there was any confusion, his voice rids Harry of what was left: This is Draco Malfoy.

“What are you doing here?”, is all Harry can ask, maybe with a bit too much aggression than strictly necessary. Malfoy just blinks as if he has no idea what Harry is talking about and answers: “Isn't it obvious? I'm drinking a glass of water in...”

“Nonononono, what are you doing _here_?”, Harry gesticulates wildly.

The pointed stare he gets from Malfoy this time is more level-headed and reminds Harry too much of something he wanted to forget forever.

“The same as you, I guess.”

Unsure what to make of that, Harry blinks for a few moments just like Nate has been doing between them for their entire conversation.

“But I don't understand”, Harry tries again, “why are you-”

_Potter._ He hears Malfoy's voice in his head without any inclination on Malfoy's face that he's talking to him.  _Leave it. We have company._

Harry slumps a little and looks guiltily at Nate again.

“So you two know each other, then?”, Nate asks, confused.

“No.”, Harry hurries, while Malfoy says: “Sketchily.”

They turn to each other, both wearing a visible expression of  _well, it's clearly not_ my _fault if our cover blows up_ written on their faces.

_Sorry_ , Harry thinks. The fact that his occlumency skills are shitty does come in handy when he has to communicate with Malfoy, who can establish a link to his thoughts. Although the notion of Malfoy currently snooping around his head is so devastatingly uncomfortable, he quickly smiles at Nate, adds: “He is right of course. I just thought it..., well, doesn't matter now. Anyway. See you later, yeah?” and makes his excuse with a little nod to his room.

Oh, this is just brilliant. As if any wizard turning up at his chosen safety nest wouldn't be bad enough, but does it have to be the one whose destiny he's been linked to in personal animosity since school days?

 

* * *

 

When he emerges his room for breakfast the next day, there is another girl – Laura, he remembers – standing in the kitchen and making porridge.

“Morning”, he mumbles, “do we have coffee?”

“Coffee?”, Laura looks at him in confusion, “Like, where are you from?”

Puzzled at her reaction, Harry goes with: “Uh. Surrey. Why?”

“I've never seen an English man drinking _coffee_ when he can have tea.”

“Haven't met Luke then.”, Cora chimes in happily, strutting into the kitchen and inspecting Laura's porridge. “More British than the Queen, but a horrible caffeine addict. He usually keeps it somewhere over there in the top drawer.”, she says to Harry, which leaves him in a dilemma. He knows about young Muggles in college sharing basically everything from shampoo to shoes. But how does he explain to Cora that he can't simply take coffee from a boy who might take it as a very personal affront without providing any details as to why?

“Uhh, I'm not sure if I should just help myself, I mean it's a bit forward and I can't just take-”

“Don't bother with it, Potter. Next pack is on you, if we're the only ones drinking it.”

Malfoy enters the kitchen with his usual nonchalant verve and even offers Harry a tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks”, Harry stumbles over the word, taken aback, “Should I make a cup for you too, then?”

Malfoy's nod is more of an answer than Harry expected, and he firmly decides that he won't deal with ponderings about his strange behaviour in the vicinity of Muggles before his first cup of coffee in the morning.

Malfoy is meddling with his tie – he replaced his strange hipster clothing with his usual business casual, Harry assumes – and says to Cora: “Cora dear, how often have I told you that a green top simply doesn't go with your hair?”

She sticks his tongue out at him, but smiles and attempts to straighten his tie for him: “Darling, just because one knows how to dress, doesn't mean one has to follow it just for the sake of college like you do.” She flips her hair, “It's called 'fuck yeah, alternative hair' for a reason.” and ruffles his.

Malfoy lets go off his tie for her and smiles down at her with fondness in his gaze, as if she was a little kid that just learned to take its first steps.

Baffled by seeing Malfoy engaging in an affectionate discussion about hair with someone so very kind, but so very unmagical altogether, Harry almost forgets the coffee.

“Malfoy.”, he says after clearing his throat and hands him his cup.

“Thanks, Potter.”, Malfoy turns to Cora again, “Gotta run, see you later and then we're doing something with the two newbies here, yeah?”

“Yep.”, Cora says and Malfoy storms out of the kitchen like a breezing whirlwind, with three slightly bemused people looking after him, one of them remembering how his movement would have looked like in a robe.

“God, is he always that swishy?”, Laura asks and nibbles absent-mindedly at her porridge.

“Yeah.”, Harry and Cora sigh in unison.

Harry immediately bites his tongue, but Cora says nothing, just looks at him with a sudden interest.

 

* * *

 

 

After his cup of coffee and a bit of Laura's porridge, Harry has to get running. His schedule for the day is packed tightly with lots of things like enrolling with the uni, finding out which modules to choose and which societies to join; the sort of things that can be overwhelming even if one is used to the Muggle proceedings, so Harry spends most of his time gazing at different places in the streets, and tries to blend in as far as possible by doing everything exactly like everyone else around him. He nearly passes by the Leaky Cauldron once and has to disguise himself quickly with an umbrella as the witch who is working there as a maid lately nearly runs into him.

Ginny, who is interning at the Daily Prophet, will drop some hints on his whereabouts in the papers next week, so his absence won't cause too much of a stir. Harry is forever thankful how she handled the break-up when he went to America, and how she didn't disapprove completely of all his further decisions. The same goes for Hermione, who actually encouraged him to go to university and take anthropology courses for her, so she can use his notes for her scientific approach on discovering where magic came from, and how it is developed in Muggleborns.

Ron of course, wasn't as pleased to hear that Harry would postpone his Auror training even further, but deep inside him, Harry knows he can appreciate the sentiment of being able to shine as the new war-proven prodigy of Auror squad when Harry is not around.

Fame doesn't make it exactly easy to find good friends, so Harry is proud of himself on how well he did with his and starts missing them momentarily when he sits down for card games after dinner with Cora, Laura and Draco, whom he has to call Luke from now on.

 

“Okay then, guys!”, Cora starts and smiles at the three of them with the conviction of someone who sees a pleasant evening with lots of joy ahead, whereas Laura's expression can be best described as critical wariness, all furrowed brows, and Harry's and Malfoy's best resembles a dictionary entry for 'gloomy'.

“Me and Luke have been roommates for a whole year, so I guess we know each other pretty well already, but as this can't be said for you two, Laura and Harry, we thought we'd play a simple card game with a twist. So everytime you have to take another card, you need to pull one of these slips” - she holds up an empty goldfish bowl that is filled with lots of handwritten little paper slips - “and direct the question written on it to a person of your choice. There are some personal questions in there, some stupid ones, but they're mostly just funny.”

Harry sneaks little glances over to Malfoy as Cora shuffles and lays out the cards for them. Laura seems more like the quiet, observant type to him, so he doubts they'll get much out of her with this game, and he is not really sure he feels comfortable sharing, or basically lying about a personal fact about him, when he's being under Malfoy's scrutiny. Although he doubts that he really is. His presence just evokes an uneasy feeling in Harry's chest, much like a small blockade for him to breathe through.

Cora has to draw the first card and fishes after a question snippet. “Okay, I'm going to go easy on you newbies”, she winks at Harry and Laura, “and ask Luke first: Luke, what would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender?”

To Harry's surprise, a relaxed smile breaks out on Malfoy's face as he shakes his head and mutters: “You knew it was going to be something embarrassing, didn't you?”

A sly smile steals across Cora's face and Harry wonders how she managed to take the Malfoy he knew, someone bossy who needed friends who were constantly sucking up to him, and make him into what Mr Weasley would call a “good sport”, who could also have the piss taken from his friends.

“Okay, so my parents, or rather my whole family has this thing where they name every other child after a constellation.” Harry remembers the wall with the family tree in Sirius' house, the Order's headquarters, and a pang of melancholy hits him out of nowhere. Even in so different surroundings, Malfoy simply reminds him of everything his past held, from Sirius and the prospect of escaping his teenage prison, of the fights with Molly and how people seem to never stop caring, but the way Malfoy can talk about his past after only a year gives Harry hope he will be able to return soon and maybe get what he seems to be looking for his whole life: A family. “So, had I been a girl, my name would either have been 'Lacerta' or 'Vela', I guess.”

Despite himself, Harry has to grin as Laura asks: “Are those even names? I mean, is it even legal to do such a thing to your child?”

Draco just shrugs, because Cora is still giggling to herself, and continues the game. When he has to draw a card, he immediately picks a snippet and crows: “Time to get back to you!” at Cora. Harry feels like he hasn't said a single word for the whole duration of the game yet, because he is so baffled by Malfoy acting like... yeah, well, a decent human being.

“Cora, do you sing in the shower? And dear, we've been living together for a whole year, there's no way you will be talking your way out of this!”

Cora nudges him with his elbow, but Malfoy doesn't even attempt to hide his smile as she admits: “Yeah well, “The 80s Very Best Disco Ballads” is a very catchy tune, okay?” and quickly continues the game. It comes apparent very quickly that Harry's luck is just the tiniest bit better than everybody else's, but to his reluctance, this just means there are more questions directed at him:

“Harry, what is your favourite smell?”

“Uhm, Wood, I guess.”

“Have you ever stolen a street sign?”

“Why would I... wait, no.”

The game is amusing, but Harry realises soon that there are more serious questions to come when Laura asks Malfoy: “Luke, if you were another person, would you be friends with you?”

Ignoring Harry's burning stare, Malfoy looks at a spot on the table for some time and moves his head from left to right a little. It's not silent in the room, there's music from Cora's Laptop playing in the background and voices from the flat above them, but Harry feels like he can hear the seconds ticking by on the clock as he waits for Malfoy's answer. After some time, Malfoy draws in a deep breath and says: “I don't really know. Depends on when I got to know me I guess.”, his gaze wanders over the table and locks with Harry's, “I suppose I behaved like a snob, who didn't care for anybody beside himself, for a fair amount of my life, and I still can be ignorant sometimes, but I think I have learned how to be... a friend at uni. And I think I would at least give me a chance, once I discovered there's more to me.”

The smile that follows is tiny, yet the bravest thing Harry has ever seen Malfoy do. He keeps his eyes on Harry's for a little longer, as if to make a point, then moves on and acts like this confession was nothing out of the ordinary. Harry leans back in his chair and notices a lump in his throat before the realisation kicks in:

This was a plea from Malfoy to give him a second chance.

To reevaluate his opinion of him, because that is what Malfoy did with his.

He swallows and thinks of his Hogwarts days. If someone from his Divination class would have told him they'd seen him play card games with Draco Malfoy and that he was about to change his opinion of him entirely, he would have laughed them in the face and told them to go back inhaling incense in Trelawny's tearoom.

But right now, he starts to believe his decision to come to uni and meeting Malfoy there by chance maybe was a wink from the stars, to tell him once and for all to stop placing people in boxes.

Harry is so absorbed in his trail of thoughts, he startles when Laura suddenly says: “Harry? Are you still in there?”

“Yes. What? Yes.”, he shakes his head and quickly grins at her. “Uh. What was the question?”

“I asked 'What is the least favourite thing about yourself?'”, Laura repeats.

“Oh, that's easy. My scar.”, Harry replies on autopilot and points to his forehead.

“What?”, Cora asks, “Your scar? But why? It's shaped like a lightning bolt! I mean, does it come any cooler?”

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. “Cool? Not so much, since it's where Vol-”

_Potter!_ He meets Malfoy's eyes and feels a flicker of panic die in his eyes. What is he doing? What does he tell Cora now? Malfoy just slowly shakes his head as if Harry literally is the biggest idiot he's ever met. 

“Uh, I mean, my scar often hurts. I got it my whole life and I used to get really bad headaches from it and so on, so, yeah. Not so very cool.”, he smiles sheepishly at Cora and hopes he saved the situation. Malfoy seemingly breathes a sigh of relief and just mutters something to himself.

“Oh, okay.”, Cora just replies and continues to play the game. Harry's thoughts drift off to Malfoy's behaviour and the dilemma he's currently in once again, until he hears a _Potter! Seriously, watch yourself!_ and Cora asks him the next question: “Harry, were you named after anyone?”

“Yeah, well, I got my middle name from my father, but otherwise... well, I wouldn't know, since my parents are dead, would I?”

Cora's mouth immediately turns down and her eyes get wide. She reaches out and touches Harry's hand. “Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry.”

Harry smiles weakly at her and shrugs. “Yeah, it's okay, it's not as if everybody didn't know what happened.”

Cora just furrows her brows in confusion. “Harry? How would I know?”

“Come on, it was all over the papers how-”, Malfoy coughs very loudly. Harry immediately bites his tongue, because he knows he slipped _again_ , and from Malfoy's gaze he won't get any further help this time either: It's downright murderous, with flaring nostrils and narrowed brows.

“Uhm, I mean, they died. In an accident. It was a big story back then, but I should have figured you wouldn't know. Sorry.”

Lying isn't exactly one of Harry's expertises, so Cora's expression is less than convinced as she withdraws her hand. Trying to cover up his uneasiness, Harry decides to take a sip from his drink and smile smoothly at Laura.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?”, Malfoy suddenly pipes up and Harry nearly misses his mouth with his glass. Exploiting his startledness, Malfoy drags Harry away by his elbow, but smiles at Cora as if the tables were turned. Harry suspects it to be some secret sign between them, but before he can ask what's going on, Malfoy pushes him into the bathroom, locks the door with the key and whispers: “Muffliato.”

“Isn't this illegal?”, Harry asks with his chin jutted forward and arms crossed in front of him as Malfoy turns around again in the bathroom that is far too small for two people.

The roll of Malfoy's eyes is nearly unrecognisable in the dark of the night, but Harry doesn't want to turn the light on.

“What do you think will happen?”, Malfoy sneers, “One of your friends from the ministry will turn up in a Muggle flat after setting up a floo to our kitchen stove to arrest me for casting a spell that indicates I want to have some privacy?

Besides, don't think I haven't seen your wand under your sleeve as well.”

Malfoy's gaze is as provoking as it was back in school, and Harry remembers the white hot fury and anger and then terrible panic shooting through his body the last time the two of them met in a bathroom.

“Why, did you want to duel me without it?”

He feels like he has learned nothing since then when he draws his wand and looks Malfoy dead in the eye, thinking _Go on then._ with a stubbornness his godfather would have been proud of.

Knowing Malfoy, he doesn't avoid his glare and his nostrils begin flaring dangerously as he curls his lip into the cruel expression Harry has last seen on his father's face.

Seconds tick by on Cora's teacup clock on the wall, until Malfoy pushes Harry's shoulders out of the way to sit down on the bathtub and sigh: “Merlin, Potter, I didn't take you here to duel you.”

Sitting down on the closed loo opposite of Malfoy himself, Harry takes in Malfoy as he sits there, long lean frame hunched to hide his mouth behind his hands with his arms propped up on his knees. This Malfoy doesn't quite fit in the two images Harry has of him: This is not Draco Malfoy, an influential father's only son and school bully, and this is not Draco Malfoy, the boy whose loyalty's power he had underestimated his entire life. Malfoy is not here to bully him, he's come to London an entire year before Harry even thought about it, but Harry is still wary of any sign of kindness he shows towards Cora or the others, for there is no trust he can build the relationship he is going to need to have to Malfoy – being roommates for an entire year – on.

When he meets Malfoy's gaze again, his face is hard. “You need to be more careful, Potter.”

Harry nods. “I know.”

“No, you don't.” There's contained fury in the way Malfoy let's his palm slap straight on his thigh. “You don't have any idea what it's like in the least. Go a year without magic? Oh, you don't have to. But you need to understand that you're nothing special here. I thought you grew up with Muggles, you should know how to behave like one when you decide to leave the Wizarding World behind for-”

“Do you think it was an easy decision?”, Harry exclaims with balled fists on his thighs, “Do you honestly think that after growing up with Muggles who hated me and treated me like dirt for the better part of my life, I would go leave the Wizarding World behind if it wasn't absolutely necessary?”

“Well then imagine what I'm doing here as someone who's been told since birth that any contact with Muggles should be avoided at all costs!”

Malfoy's squinting at him like he wants to rip off his glasses and throw them out of the window in an instant, while the blood is pounding in Harry's ears and he tries to look as frightening as possible in the angry state he's in. During their screaming, they have leaned ever closer together, so that it would hurt now, should one decide to punch the other.

“Then please explain to me”, Harry presses out through gritted teeth with all his bottled-up sarcasm, “how come Draco Malfoy, son of wizard elite and one of the most promising Hogwarts' graduates of his year, is wasting away his time at a _Muggle University_?”

Harry expects Malfoy to go ballistic at that, maybe even punch or hex him, and it's not that Harry wants it, it's just that Malfoy's mere presence gets him so riled up he can't help himself but tantalise.

To his surprise, Malfoy does neither, and simply looks at Harry with something close to pity in his eyes as he says: “When I said: 'The same as you, I guess.', I meant it. Or what are you doing here but hiding?”

Harry's fist unclench immediately by his surprise at being found out this easily. Malfoy can't have known the way the press is hunting him down and the people are throwing themselves at him wherever he goes. If he has been here for a whole year, he couldn't have read the Prophet, and Harry doubts he would know from first-hand experience. Or does he? Just maybe... The other way round?

Malfoy watches the thought sink in on Harry's face until he continues: “And this is why I need this to work.” He leans forward again to tackle Harry's gaze. “We don't mention Hogwarts. We went to normal schools, with normal subjects and normal friends. If you want to tell stories, alter them so they're credible for anybody who's never touched a wand. And stick with the car accident story, okay?” He flicks his finger against Harry's scar and shoots his eyebrows at him to make his point clear.

Harry nods with a grunt. There really isn't much of a choice left for him, after all.

This is the moment Cora chooses to knock on the bathroom door and ask: “Guys? Is everything okay in there?”

Malfoy flicks his wand to end the Muffliato. “Yeah, sure, we'll be back in a minute.”, he says with all the tension gone from his voice, and Harry wonders how he manages to go from threatening to furious to carefree in so little time. Maybe it's something Muggles are good at. Maybe he can learn, too.

“Oh, and one thing else.”, Malfoy adds when his gaze has once again settled on Harry, “Hands off Cora. I see how you're ogling her when she's talking to me. I know she's a great person, but she'll continue to be one without you making her your next challenge.”

He gets up and leaves Harry sitting there in his complete confusion, and only stops at the door to turn around one last time and throw a heated glance at him. “Don't mess this up, Potter. Merlin knows you did with a lot of my life.”

Harry swallows and sighs, but stays in the dark bathroom. This certainly isn't how he imagined the first day of college, but now that he's there, he isn't even sure if he imagined anything in particular at all. It's just that now all the blurry frames of future experience are filled with a face he thought he would forget come time and will now never be able to get out of his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry watches his every step the next days. He tries to busy himself with things to do on campus, but he was never as invested in this as Hermione used to be, who found a way to sneak him small notes, much like texts, through caterpillars and little paperplanes every day.

Alternately, Harry would love to spend his days at home getting to know the others better, Nate seems like a decent guy to him, maybe a bit absorbed in his mind, and he genuinely longs to have a proper conversation with Cora, but he can't stay in the same room as Malfoy longer than five minutes without the situation getting awkward.

One time he wants to go to Cora's room, but overhears her discussing relationship problems with Malfoy in there, and stops right at the door.

If there was anybody but Malfoy sitting in there, he might go inside and offer his help. He doesn't consider himself an expert in relationships, he ended his only functioning one with Ginny when he went to America, and discovered it to be for the best.

He was not that surprised when he was chatted up in a bar in Boston by a guy, and went home with him. The newfound freedom far away from his friends and usual boundaries gave him the opportunity to discover this part of himself, and when he came back to England, he felt comfortable enough with himself to tell Ginny that there had been others, and not only women, and that maybe it was for the best if she stayed with Dean Thomas. So he knows heartbreak and how to deal with it, but he can't help Cora with Malfoy sitting next to her, holding her hand disguised as a guy called 'Luke' and looking at him in disgust.

 

So the weeks crawl by and they fall in a routine. Harry gets up in the morning to make coffee for himself and Malfoy, while Laura prepares porridge for everyone, they have a quick breakfast together and bicker about who has to do the dishes or clean the bathroom.

Cora usually gets Nate, who tends to be the biggest slob of them, to do one of the nastier tasks, which has led to him getting up even later, so that it's mostly the four of them sitting together in the morning.

“Can you take care of this, Potter?”, Malfoy asks one morning as Cora takes out the cleaning list once again and gestures towards the trash cans while sipping his coffee.

“Really now? We've been living together for like three weeks, why do you still call each other by your last name? Is it some kind of fetish or what?”, Laura sighs and shakes her head.

Harry startles mid-breath and looks at Malfoy. He has never noticed the name calling, because it's just natural to call him by... his name, well.

“Old habits.”, he mumbles, not sure in which direction the excuse is going to go – it's about time the others suspect _something_ , what with them dancing around each other like they were stepping on hot stones.

“So you two do know each other, then?”, Cora asks with a sudden interest.

_Let me handle it_ , Harry hears Malfoy in his head and immediately closes his mouth before he can answer.

“Yeah, we went to the same school.”, Malfoy admits, “Shared some classes, but I never knew he was coming here.”

“Neither did I.”, Harry adds with a sheepish smile and gets a small glare from Malfoy. He stops smiling and looks down. They can't cock this up.

“Didn't you go to this preppy boarding school?”, Cora asks, “Something like... What was it called again?”

“Err.”, Draco falters. Harry sees the small flicker of panic he is so accustomed to flash in Draco's eyes, that unsettling moment when you need an elaborate lie but also have to answer quickly passing before them.

“Smeltings Academy for Boys”, Harry supplies, Malfoy's glare a bit wearier now, a mix of thankful disappointment. “Had the most horrible school uniform, but we did learn some things that come handy in everyday life.”

A secret smile steals across his and Malfoy's face as they both simultaneously touch the wands hidden under their sleeves, neither of them noticing the other doing the same.

“Oh dear, that must've been hard for you.”, Cora says and looks at Malfoy with compassion. “An _all boys school_? But you weren't bullied, were you?”

Harry frowns at her in confusion. “Why would anyone bully him?”

Now it's Cora's turn to look at him in bewilderment, then back at Malfoy, who gives Harry the most desperate gaze, sighs so deeply he shutters a little and looks like he wants to drown himself in his coffee. Harry has no clue what's going on. Neither does Laura.

“Oh my god, they didn't know? You lived in denial for the better part of your life?”, Cora finally gasps and puts a comforting hand on Malfoy's back.

Harry believes to hear Malfoy mutter something like: “So not ready for this at this time of day.” and asks: “Didn't know what?”

Malfoy looks up at him from his coffee cup, his whole hunched posture screaming defeat. Harry just fails to estimate what for, Cora can't possibly refer to his past as a Death Eater. She bites her lip and after a quick check-up glance to Malfoy tells Harry straight forward and with a sense of defense as if Harry is going to attack them: “Luke is gay. And he's out for a while, so I hope you won't start giving him a hard time now.”

Harry's eyes widen. The thought of Malfoy being gay is not that hard to progress, there have been... signs, after all, but why does Cora think he would ever give him a hard time for  _that_ ?

“What!?”, he finally asks when he can blink again.

“Yeah, Potter, go on, all the jokes you always wanted to-”, Malfoy starts until he is interrupted by Harry: “No, nono, I don't, I mean no, whatever, why would I even care about this, but... Why in the seven hells would you assume I'd bully you for that?”

That they both think so little of him sets a little pitch of rage burning in his guts.

Cora has the notion to look a little bit embarrassed while Malfoy simply blinks at him in amazement, not saying anything.

Harry's brows are still furrowed.

“Sorry, Harry”, Cora finally says, now gnawing away at her lip as if it was a chicken wing, “It's just... Well, when I first met you, I really thought the two of you had something going on a while back and just didn't want to draw us into the whole 'living with the ex' business.”

She chuckles as Harry and Draco both turn to her with equally horrified expressions on their faces, and shrugs. “You know what they say about those preppy places with hormone-high teenagers.”

Malfoy purses his lip in distaste – or at an unwelcome memory, Harry doesn't really want to know what the Slytherins got up to in their common room, and quickly shakes his head at the thought.

Then he imagines what Ron's face would've looked like if he had started dating Draco Malfoy in sixth year instead of Ginny and has to laugh.

“What's so funny?”, Malfoy asks with a small scowl.

“Sorry, Malfoy, not for nothing, but the idea of us dating in school is rather funny.”, Harry adds and has to laugh a bit more when he sees the images now forming in Malfoy's head until he is laughing as well.

Cora smiles at them proudly as if they were fighting children in a school class she has to teach, who have finally agreed on letting it go.

“But just for checkers: Are you gay?”

Nobody had anticipated Laura's question to Harry, so they all stop in their tracks and look at her with big eyes. Then Harry can feel the sudden shift of interest as all eyes turn to him and he actually blushes. He clears his throat and scratches his temples beneath his glasses.

“Uhm, I wouldn't... I wouldn't call it gay.”, he decides to say finally. Because, well, if Malfoy can come clean with who he is in the Muggle world, then he can more than ever. “But from experience I'd say there's definitely something to the male gender.”

He looks down to where he is playing with his coffee cup, only hearing Cora's small giggle and the whispered “called it!” to Laura under her breath.

When he looks up, Malfoy's nose is scrunched and his eyes are widened. “If you mean the Weasel by 'from experience', I think I will actually have to obliv- brainwash myself from the images of that. Please tell me you don't.”

Harry laughs at him and shakes his head. “God no, never with Ron.”

Malfoy's sigh of relief comes naturally, like they have actually been friends since forever and it's just a typical overdramatic thing to do upon such a revelation. Which, if Harry comes to think of it, he would never ever have expected from college life. Not like this.

Cora has sensed the shift in Harry's and Draco's attitude towards each other as well and asks: “So, for the sake of our friendship and all, could you both  _please_ start calling each other by your first names?” while comically blinking at them with her long lashes.

“Sure.”, Harry says, “ _Luke_.” and adds as an afterthought just for Draco: _Please set this right some time, yeah?_

_I will._ “Harry.”

They shake hands while pinning each other down with still playfully challenging gazes, which seems too formal and out of place at a breakfast table, but has a hidden meaning just for the two of them that Laura and Cora will never be able to grasp.

Laura slurps the rest of her morning milkshake with a lot of noise, before clearing her throat and asking: “Yeah, well, now that that's settled, we still need someone to take out the litter.”

And that's when Nate enters the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

The peaceful attitude displayed at breakfast is not meant to stay, and this should have been clear to Harry. He will still say: “Malfoy.” with a teasing expression when he meets him alone in the hall and step aside when Draco answers: “Potter.” with an inclined head.

One time, Cora overhears them doing this on the way to do the laundry in the basement, so they have to hide from her wrath in a different flat, much to the occupants' confusion, and when they finally emerge laughing at the faces they pulled, it's hard for Cora to remain cross with them.

It reminds Harry of the time in fourth year when he wouldn't speak with Ron and Hermione tried to negotiate between them, until they managed on themselves and all she had left to sigh was: “Boys.” and roll her eyes, because well, they had been. And Harry is delighted to find he can still feel these rashes of childish joy, another part of him that hasn't died during the war.

“I think I'm heading home on Sunday.”, Cora says during breakfast the next week, “Can you take me to the station with your car, Nate?”

“Sure.”, Nate nods.

“You have a car?”, Laura suddenly asks, wide-eyed, “Why didn't anyone tell me? Can you take me as well?”

Nate nods again and continues to eat his muesli. He is the only one to refuse Laura's porridge, although nobody exactly knows why. Cora assumes it's got something to do with digestion.

“Looks like it's just the two of us, then.”, Harry says to Draco when the others have bid them good-bye on Sunday to visit their families, “Do you want to watch a film or something?”

Draco grins and raises his eyebrows at Harry. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me present you Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, elected Most Marriable Wizard Of The Year by _The Witch Weekly_ twice in a row, but most important: The man who chooses to watch _a film_ when he has a Muggle household all to himself.” And with that, he takes his wand and hexes Harry's hair green.

“Hey!”, Harry exclaims.

“Too bad you were in Gryffindor. The Slytherin colour really goes with your eyes, you know?” Harry knows this sarcastic drawl all to well, but never before was it accompanied by a chaffing smile and a glint in Draco's eyes.

“Oh, you just wait.”

If there's one thing spending a year in America with many diverse groups of wizards has taught him, it's a lot of homemade jinxes Draco will have a hard time recognising. So they chase each other around the flat, setting up riddles for one another (Harry can't go into the kitchen without a stack of enchanted books attacking him, before he finds out that he needs to greet every single one of them with a military salute before he enters) and a treasure hunt (Too bad Draco's entire scarf collection is now tied to one another from his room's window to the top of the house.), until they flap down on the couch, panting.

“That was fun.”, Harry says after a while.

“Hm.”, Draco nods, staring in the distance, then turns to Harry with a sudden interest gleaming in his eyes. “Did you create those spells yourself?”

“No.”, Harry shakes his head. “I could never. I know Hermione did – well, I guess there's no thing she didn't do – but I just can't. I learned them in America. I can... show you, though, if you want.”

Draco's eyes light up even more as he already stands up again. “Really? Brilliant.”

Harry just hopes he doesn't regret this as Draco goes on with: “I've actually created a few spells myself, I aspire to be a curse-breaker, I mean, I practically got the job, but I still have to pass some time here, so when you teach me some new ones, it's not completely wasted.”

Harry just picks himself up to get off the couch, when a small paper plane zooms in through the window and hits him square on the head.

“What's that? Looks like one of those memos flying around the ministry...”, Malfoy asks.

“So that's where Hermione stole this idea!”, Harry says with a grin, “It's a reminder that I'm meeting her and Ron tomorrow at the Leaky Cauldron for coffee, when I'm back at Diagon Alley anyway...”

“What are you doing there?”, Draco asks.

“Oh, just the usual, giving Ginny a staged interview about my favourite colour, going to Gringotts, maybe asking Florean about free icecream-”

“You're going to Gringotts?”, Draco interrupts Harry's explanation, and bites his lip as if in doubt when Harry answers with a quick nod. Then he starts rummaging around in the large pockets of his weirdly patterned, wide trousers and unsheathes a small golden key. “Could you... Could you get some money from my vault as well, please? Just enough 'til Christmas.”

“Er..”, Harry glances from the key to Draco's eyes, “Yeah. Sure.” and carefully takes the key to his room. He doesn't bother that this request is a bit weird, even coming from Draco Malfoy, who dresses like a Wall Street worker in the morning and like a Vampire Weekend fan when he goes out in the afternoon, who dismantles an entire flat with him in four hours, just to clean it up with one swish of his wand afterwards, no, Harry ponders about what exactly it was he had done to make Draco Malfoy, who was all of the things above and apparently so much more, a guy with dreams and visions, trust him like he is family.

It worries Harry a little how enticing the thought of being family with Draco is, and how they can pass each other conspiratorial smiles when Cora asks “Luke, what is your favourite scarf doing in the fridge?” the next morning. But he can't help but notice small beautiful things about Draco's personality that were completely lost on him before: How warm his smile is when Harry hands him his coffee in the morning. How adorable he acts when he gets excited about something, like showing Cora a new coffeeshop. How tiny his tongue looks when he uses it to chase a bit of porridge from the edge of his mouth...

“Potter?”

“Hm?”, Harry startles when he suddenly hears his name.

“We should all start to call you by your surname like Luke did”, Cora shakes her head fondly, “sometimes you spend even more time in your head than Nate!”

“Hey!” The difference to Nate being that he usually notices when Cora makes snide remarks about him.

“No offense, Nate. Harry, are you still up for cooking dinner tonight?”

“Yeah.”, Harry nods, “If everybody's okay with Pizza.”

Laura gives him a big smile and and a thumbs up in anticipation.

“Well, then I'll be shopping this afternoon-”

“Luke's already going.”, Cora interrupts Harry's loud thinking.

“But he always buys the wrong ingredients for a proper pizza!”

Draco raises his eyebrows at Harry's insult, but before he can fire anything back, like 'Just because you can't appreciate the good consciousness fairtrade coffee gives you!”, Cora concludes: “Then accompany him, but please stop bickering. Your worse than any old couple feeding ducks!”

And that's just one of the things Cora learned from Draco's and Harry's acquaintance: How to shut them up for good.

 

* * *

 

 

Before Harry enters Diagon Alley again the next day, he decides to borrow some of Draco's clothes and hair wax. They are unlike him and will make it harder to be recognised, but somehow strangely fitting to the situation: Draco helped Harry adapt to the Muggle world again, so Harry takes some of his things back to the Wizarding one. Equipped with too tight black jeans, a lose white shirt and gray cardigan as well as Draco's trademark scarf and his new bought square glasses, Harry manages to get as far as Gringott's without being publicly recognised.

The goblins are fairly unimpressed by his wish to enter two vaults – although Harry will never not think their facial expressions are anything less than judgmental – but as soon as he leaves the bank with his bag practically bursting of Muggle money, the first witch asks to touch his scar and have his blessings, and from that moment on, Harry knows he has to hurry if he wants to meet Hermione and Ron on time: Soon a small group has gathered around him, asking him to sign articles they ripped out of the _Witch Weekly_ with their favourite quills, telling him they named their children after his owl, asking when he will start a family and if he could ask this Granger girl whether she could get Viktor Krum for a comment on the Quidditch World Cup again.

Much to Harry's relief, it appears that Ron has taken care of that already by asking Fred to do a trick show around the time of their meeting, so Harry can sneak away quickly while everyone around him hurries to see the newest inventions of Weasely's Wizard Wheezes.

“Hi Harry”, the voice of his best friend is music to his ears when he finally gets to hug him in the Leaky Cauldron, “how's it going?”

Ron steps back to examine Harry's general appearance and scrunches his nose. “Really, Muggles bash Wizards for their weird clothing, but what is this half robe you're wearing there? And what's that sticky smell of your hair? Harry, a month ago it was bisexual, not raging homo-”

“Stop it, Ron.”, Hermione swats at his arm before she falls around Harry's neck and they sit down, “You never know if you hurt his feelings.”

“Yeah Ron, another word and I might stay with the Muggles forever.”, Harry presses his lips together and blinks slowly before laughing at Ron for taking him seriously for a moment.

He hands Hermione his notes from his Anthropology classes and Ron some of Laura's homemade toffee, before asking: “So, what did I miss? Has The Prophet turned on me already? Did I commit any crime while in America, knock up any innocent girl at Hogwarts? I'm sure something like this is next.”

The look Hermione and Ron share makes Harry's mocking smile falter a little. “What? Please don't tell me that's it.”

“No, it's not.”, Hermione says, “Well, yet.”

“Ginny is practically interviewed on a daily basis.”, Ron adds, “Which must be cool for her, since she gets paid for the interview on top of her salary at The Prophet.”

“She got her own column there now, in which she cites the most creative fanmail you get and responds to it in a... very Ginny way.”

“You mean she is constantly hinting at all my flaws and therefore implying that the person who sent the letter is blatantly delusional?”

Ron and Hermione nod in unison with sorry faces.

Ginny's excellent sense of humour and wicked way with words was one of the reasons he ever fell for her in the first place, and he knows that he would be able to laugh about every single one of her columns.

“On the other hand, you see people are still pretty excited to see you, last week Dorgan Humold, from the Ministry of Foreign Wizarding Affairs was it I think, suggested they should just make you Minister of Magic, because that is cleary what you're trying to accomplish by this whole hiding act.” The best thing about Ron is, that he can say a sentence like that and throw two toffees into his mouth after it as if it was merely a comment like, “The weather is nice today.”

“He is very incompetent and not taken seriously, of course”, Hermione feels the need to add after a side-glance to Ron, “Nobody would really make you Minister of Magic at only 19...”

“Why not?”, Ron asks, “Would make for a truly stunning CV: Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Hogwarts Drop-Out, Defeater of the Dark Lord, Gap Year, Minister of Magic. He would be our boss Hermione, we could practically do what we want and wouldn't need to fear losing our job!”

“Ron, do you actually know what it takes to be Minister? I mean, err, no offense Harry, but I hardly see an 19-year-old cut out for the job, how would-”

“Guys”, Harry laughs and raises is hands from the table, “I don't wish to become Minister of Magic any time soon, okay? To be honest, I don't think I want to become Minister of Magic _at all._ ”

“So you'll join me in Auror training soon, yeah?” Ron stops chewing the toffees for a moment.

“We'll see. First I help Hermione get her hands on every information she needs for that thesis that will change the Wizarding World's view of Muggleborns” - the smile on her face might be tiny, but Harry knows she is flattered by that comment - “and if they still want me then, I'll join you. But it's like... I still feel a bit torn apart, like I don't belong here with you, but also not in America and not at university either and...”

“It's okay”, Hermione interrupts him and covers his hand on the table with her own. “We understand. Take all the time you need.”

The look in her eyes is warm and encouraging, but Harry knows that she doesn't understand, and how could she possibly, she has found her place in this world: Ron's and her wedding is scheduled for January, they decided on a winter wedding, she is doing what fulfills her but could also change her mind at any given moment, her potential leading her the way to doing what is just right for herself. She never needed to take time, and Harry envies her for that.

The smile he gives her is tight-lipped, but appreciative.

“Well, I better get going”, he says after a look to his watch, “I still have to go shopping with Draco-”

“Draco?”, Ron asks, “Who's that?”

Harry is baffled at first, then remembers he forgot to tell them this tiny important piece of information.

“Oh right, I'm sort of living together with Draco Malfoy now, he had the same-”

“You're living together with MALFOY?” He hadn't really expected Hermione to do her shrieking voice again.

“Yeah, you see, Draco's not that-”

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU CALL HIM BY HIS FIRST NAME?!”

Now Harry is a little scared by the reaction of his two best friends at this revelation. He looks at his watch again and wonders how he can explain this quickly.

“Look, Draco has already been in the student flat when I moved there, he's going under a handle name, so we had a rusty start but I discovered he can be a decent guy actually, I think we're even similar in a way...” He stops when he realises that both Hermione's and Ron's jaw have practically sunken to their chests and that they're watching him with empty expressions, as if he was a complete alien talking to them. “I mean, he even let me take his money, I think he trusts me-”

“You have his money?”, Ron awakes from his trance.

“Yeah?”

“BURN IT!”

“Ron!”

“Sorry.”

Hermione bites her lip, but Ron is sitting in the corner of their booth, pouting. “Sorry Harry, it's just a bit... much.”

“I know, it was really weird for me at first, but... well, I gotta run. I'll stay in touch, yeah?”

He stands up to hug both of them.

“Don't you dare not to.” Hermione blows a kiss to his cheek and then he's off hurrying to Tesco's.

 

* * *

 

 

When Harry scurries around the corner, Draco is already leaning against the wall next to the entrance of the supermarket, one foot propped up and looking for all Harry can tell superior to the people around him, like someone plucked a much idolised character from a movie and placed him exactly there, and his relaxed defensive posture is the only way he managed to cope with the situation.

Then again, Harry realises as he catches his breath to greet him, in some way, he is.

But before Harry can share this random insight with him, Draco meets his gaze with a guarded expression and simply says: “You're late, Potter.”, before turning into the store and leaving it to Harry to fetch the shopping cart.

Baffled by the sudden coldness in his voice, Harry does so and quickly follows suit.

Draco scans the aisles with habitual expertise and starts tossing random groceries into the cart, leaving Harry to trod along like a stray dog.

“Can we take some of the peanut butter?”, Harry asks into their silence when they pass it.

Draco turns to him with an expression of utter annoyance.

“Why? We don't even have toast.”

“Well, then we could buy some.”

“None of us eats any toast.”, Draco replies and turns to move along.

Baffled by the deprecating reaction, Harry throws the peanut butter into the cart and adds: “That's just because we never have any. Maybe I'd like to have toast tomorrow.”

Without even meeting his eyes, Draco says: “If you say so.”, and makes a limp gesture towards the shelf with the bakers products.

Harry scoops up some toast, still unsure about Draco's behaviour, and drops it into the cart. Draco scrunches his nose.

“Not that one.”

“Why?”, Harry eyes the toast to see if there's something wrong with it.

“That's butter toast. See if they have full-grain.”

“But”, Harry starts, looking around unsure what to do, “butter toast is cheaper.”

“So? I'm not buying anything with a price-performance-ratio that practically calls wage dumping.” Draco crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Harry.

“But you're not even eating the toast!”, Harry says in exasperation.

“Doesn't make any difference. We're still spending money for it from the community coffer, to which I'm contributing. And I refuse to spend it on that.”

While giving Draco a worried but challenging glance, Harry considers the options of fighting over toast and decides to go with Draco's demand for the sake of convenience. He can't determine what got Draco's mood in such a lousy state at the moment, but is sure Cora will fix it later.

When he tries to add coffee to the chart later, though, Draco stops him once again.

“We're drinking fair trade.”, he decides, and takes the pack from Harry's hand, not quite meeting Harry's baffled gaze. And this pushes Harry over the edge.

“Draco”, Harry snaps, “I know you're not in the position of having to look after the price of what you're buying, but seriously, why do you care so much for that? It's normal for students to simply buy whatever seems fit and is cheap!”

Draco just snickers hollowly. “So the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' decides to show his true colours by not caring about child labour and thousands of people starving each day just because he wants a better price for his coffee? Interesting.”

“That-”, Harry draws in a breath and glides his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “that is not even what this is about!”

Draco then turns to him and finally meets his eyes along with a sneer. “So? Enlighten me then, how saving people from their sure death by killing an evil mass murderer is in any way different from simply deciding to pay a few pounds more so as to not force people towards their sure death!”

“Why do you have to make a discussion about coffee about our past?”

Harry can't see the point Draco is coming from, this whole discussion seems like a pretend argument for a deeper issue here, but Draco makes it impossible for him to detect which. Just yesterday, everything seemed fine and Harry sensed an odd sort of... maybe friendship coming along, mingling with a well-known tension maybe, but if this how Draco gets on a regular basis, he already regrets defending him from Ron and Hermione.

“I'm not making anything about our past! It's you who obviously can't let go, with that excuse for visiting Diagon Alley and your friends today...”

But before Draco can go on mumbling comments about Harry's day, Harry interrupts him by pushing the cart out of the way and pointing an accusing index finger towards him: “Oh, now you're just being jealous! And yes, I would take any excuse to see my friends, because I value them, you know, I don't know if you know what that is, valuing people, but as it happens, I _actually_ had to go to Gringott's today...”

“You don't make any sense!”, Draco exclaims, finally showing more emotion then belittlement, “First you come here for a break from the Wizarding World, then you long to go back and then you can't stand any comments about it again! Do you know how often I get to see my parents?”

He doesn't wait for an answer as Harry's breathing quickens. “Twice. A. Year. I literally had to built myself an own, free time span in which I could act like I normally would, like a wizard, again, and for that I love Sunday's, because it feels like they allow me to _breathe_ freely again; and then you turn up with your magic buzzing in the air like static, drawing everybody to yourself and winning every game, but you know, sometimes you just fail _spectacularly_ at realising other people's pain!”

Some of the other customers begin to eye them warily, some with concern and others with interest, and Harry notices the lamp above them flickering, but he is to angry to be concerned about it bursting at the moment.

“That's not true!”, he argues, “That's not true and you know it, you just get jealous because I showed earnest interest in Cora, and because I can have proper friendly relationships, while you jump opportunities like this to show your superiority, to show how much of a better man you are with your concern for the third world, while you're still afraid in your heart! Do you honestly think Mommy and Daddy would like that you spend your money on _saving Muggles_?”

He spits out the last words with so much venom, he can see Draco's left eye twitch in sync with the flickering of the lamp. He notices how he's stepped ever closer to Draco, both of them their hands ready to draw their wands. For a long minute, they just stand there, appraising each other with toxic stares, and everything that Harry can hear is the lamp's chirp. Then it's almost like he's hearing Parseltongue again, when Draco hisses: “Don't go there. Do not draw my parents into this.”

“Then move on!”, Harry spats back, “Cover name or not, don't think I haven't noticed that 'Luke' is short for Lucius, so if you don't want to be associated with them and their money, do something against it!”

He wonders how Draco is not exploding, the way his quickened breath, flaring nostrils and pulsing veins show his agitated condition. Then, without another word, Draco turns on the spot and starts walking down the aisle. Ever the bold one, though, Harry can't leave it at that and slowly screams after him: “Speaking of money”, Draco turns around again, “should I spent it on our _fairtrade_ shopping or do you want it back?”

The lamp above them bursts, and before Harry can even think about who of them did it, Draco has latched onto his throat and brings them both tumbling down into a shelf. Trying to nestle away under Draco's grip like steel, Harry fixes his gaze on his eyes and throws Draco underneath him, so that soon they are both riled up panting rolling around in vegetables, until Harry pins Draco to the floor. A shudder runs down his spine when he feels hot breath around his neck that immediately gets under his skin, paired with the low growl that escapes Draco's throat as he tries to overpower Harry.

It's then that Harry realises the people standing by, eyeing them with either horror or concealed curiosity. The sharp heaving of Draco's chest under his feels far too intimate, like their whole fight did, to be held in public. With a short apologetic nod, Harry releases Draco and scrambles to his feet. They start plucking salad bits out of their hair, but before Harry has caught enough breath to apologise properly, the shopkeeper turns up and throws them out with harsh words.

 

When they have found a new supermarket, they pay attention to each getting his own cart and making no comments about what the other puts into it. When they reach the counter and Harry hands Draco his money, he says: “Look, Draco, I'm...”

“Don't.”, Draco interrupts him and takes his money, “There's truth in every accusation. Yours as well as mine.”

And Harry isn't sure what to make of this small smile curling around Draco's lips, that is half smirk and half shy, but if he's being honest, nothing of both, really.

 

„So we're having _Potter's Pizza_ tonight? Well, if it's any good you could start a diner with that alliteration.“, Draco mockingly snarls as he swishingly enters the shared kitchen, where Harry is already preparing what he has promised to cook with Cora.

Harry just rolls his eyes and proceeds to knead the dough, not noticing Cora smearing wheat into his hair, making him look like a male version of Cruella De'Ville.

When Draco passes the toppings Harry has lined up on the counter, he stops to eye the horrifying amount of cheese for a moment, then turns and says: „Please, tell me you're doing them the  _original_ way, not the American, yes?“

Harry sighs and shoots him a look, still exasperated from the fight in the supermarket, but aware that this is just how Draco _is_ from time to time. „Why, of course I am doing them the American way! What do you think I just spent a year in the States for?“

Draco shakes his head with flaring nostrils and comments: „You do know that what the Americans like to call  _pizza_ doesn't even come close to the original, proper pizza the Italians invented? I mean, I admit it took her some time, but my mother for example managed to roll the dough thin enough to make it crisp and not soaked by... cheese fat. So why don't you try, too?“

Before Harry can shoot back some exasperated response how he doesn't believe his mother ever entered a kitchen in her life, Cora interrupts: „Chill, Harry, that's how Luke gets from time to time. Downright snob if you ask me, and spoiled by mummy on top of that. Ask him if there was one flawless being on this planet, that never did any wrongs, and he would answer Narcissa Malfoy.“

Cora does not understand the silence suddenly falling in the kitchen, as both Harry and Draco stare at each other with eyes slightly wider than usual, both having a reply lying heavy on their tongue, but not prepared to go there  _again_ . So Cora's eyes skip between the two of them for a few seconds, as they both seem to have stopped in their movements, until she asks: „Guys? Everything alright? Did I say something wrong?“

Harry and Draco both pointedly clear their throat before looking at her and Harry says: „No, nothing at all, Cora. Just, you know... only I get to make jokes about Luke's mom.“

It's later when they are eating Harry's pizza with Laura and Nate, Draco is complaining about the „exuberance“ of cheese on his piece and Harry is rolling his eyes at him, that he gets a small smile and a mouthed 'thank you' out of him, which is weird in itself, but not more than the uneasy yet warm feeling in his gut that makes him cough in his coke instead.

There is still something about Draco that feels like it's pushing him over an edge, and if he indulges into the thought, he can see his daring smile in front of him, eyes glistening with a mixture of mischief and childish joy, that evoke the experience of falling, dreamlike, with the anticipation of waking up yet not wanting to. The feeling you wish you could preserve forever at that tiny spot right under your heart, the spot that only tingles for the ones that matter.

 

* * *

 

 

"Ah, autumn in England. One of the things I definitely didn't miss in America.", Harry thinks to himself when he emerges his seminar the following day and sees the rain sluicing down on the outside, so that by the time he reaches the flat, he looks like he's just been through a car wash, with his soaked sweater and hair dripping all over the place.

All he wants to do is have a long, warm shower and then huddle in front of the TV for the whole evening, but this spot is taken already. Laura is camped on the couch with a box of tissues, a bottle of tequila and a salt cellar in front of her, sniffling and slicing lemons into little wedges. It looks like she is preparing a stag night, if it wasn't for the muffled sobs she lets out every few seconds.

Harry quickly cancels the shower in his head, whispers " _Adaresco_ " to at least dry his clothes and most of his skin, and shuffles to the couch.

Laura acknowledges him with a flickering glance, then lets out another sob and grabs a new lemon.

Harry sits down next to her.

"Can I help you?", he asks and grabs a lemon as well.

Laura just shakes her head.

"Really? Not even with the lemons?"

Laura just shakes her head some more, until she finally sets the knife down and starts crying with big tears dribbling down her cheeks.

"Oh Harry", she sobs and he grabs the tissue box as if on prompt to offer her one, "I'm so sorry. I really didn't want you to see this, it's just-"

She cuts herself short there and Harry puts an arm around her back. He has come to know Laura as a quiet person with a sharp-witted tongue, an excellent observer who always seems to be in control of the situation, but he thinks Laura herself is even more unable to cope with the state she's in now than him, because never before has she lost it like that.

"My father.", she chokes a little, "He's in the hospital, he had a stroke last night, and my mum just called me today and I can't come right now and... I'm so afraid he could die."

Harry says nothing, just lets her get it out. Then her eyes suddenly widen and she shuffles away from him: "Oh sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry, I can be a right prick sometime, but I didn't want to be this insensitive, I know your parents are..." She can't bring the word over her lips, but Harry doesn't mind. He smiles a small smile and just slowly shakes his head to show her, then comes near again and lets her cry on his shoulder.

Just when she's about to catch herself, Cora and Draco enter the flat, and Cora literally drops everything the instant she sees Laura and rushes to the couch, taking her inside her arms and whispering little soothing words into her ear. "He's going to be fine, you know he is, you'll be there on the weekend and hold his hand and he'll smile at you, his beautiful daughter...", and Harry wonders just how Cora manages to always know everything about everyone in the bat of an eye.

Well, she were wrong with the idea of Draco's and Harry's past relationship, but when Harry looks at Draco leaning in the door frame, taking in the situation and almost imperceptibly drying his coat with magic while Cora and Laura are distracted, he knows he'll always have the strongest bond to him in this flat, not matter which nature it is, not because they attended the same school, like Cora thinks, or because they both fancy men, like Laura thinks, but because they both ran from their history, especially their shared one, to have it once again intensified here.

Mumbling strange things to himself - "wouldn't have written it that way, psychoanalytical approach too far-fetched, I need more historical proof on that one" - Nate wanders into the room to refill his tea cup and stops at the sight of them. "Oh guys, what's going on here?"

Laura just hiccups, Cora pats her back, Draco shrugs and Harry looks apologetic. Then Laura grabs another lemon. "Nate", he turns at the sound of his name, "you're despairing over your thesis again, right?"

Before he can open his mouth, she snuffles and cuts him short: "Don't try to deny it, I heard you screaming 'What does the bloody wanker want from me?' from your room about half an hour ago. See, Luke over there is in his usual brooding state, Harry looks a bit like a kicked puppy, which I would blame on the weather or his general empathy in emotional situations but I can be wrong, my father just had a stroke and Cora here will go along with it because she would do everything for team spirit. Now I have two and half bottles of tequila – I suggest we get drunk."

There are no objections, at least no uttered ones, so they all plop down on the floor around the coffee table to take the first shot.

"Is this a good idea on an empty stomach?", Cora asks with doubt in her voice.

"No.", Laura snuffles again, "but this is what this is about. Here's to life. There's little else we have." And then downs her shot.

After about half an hour, the sun is about to set and Cora is already lying down, giggling about the "Jabberwocky" Nate has just recited. "English students are all mental", Draco explains to Laura, because Cora won't listen to him.

"Say 'Tumtum Tree' again!", she hiccups, then covers her mouth with her hands in childish joy as she does so.

Laura grunts. "Is she always that much of a lightweight?"

Draco nods and pulls Laura in a sitting position again. "Should've eaten something more than lemon wedges, I guess."

"I prepared some Oatmeal Cookies this morning.", Harry hears himself saying and gets up to fetch them, "They're with brown sugar and sunflower seed oil, so I guess they'll soak up the alcohol... a little bit."

"Ouuuuuh, coooookies.", Cora says and helps herself to three of them, all the time giggling, before starting to throw little pieces of them at Nate, who tries to catch them with his mouth.

Laura, unfazed by her ridiculous behaviour, simply downs another shot before raising an eyebrow at Harry and saying: "Oatmeal? You didn't steal this from the porridge supply, did you?"

"Err, no", Harry says, "I... I bought some earlier from the fairtrade shop down the road."

He looks down and blushes, feeling Draco's gaze resting on him. He expects him to have raised his eyebrows, and almost hears the _So do we buy fairtrade now, Potter?_ in his head, but when he looks up to meet Draco's eyes, his stare is thoughtful, and Harry wonders if he got the message at all. _Yes, thank you, it was your idea_ , he wants to say, but he feels that even thinking it won't bring it across properly to make amends.

After another half hour, Cora has sobered up a bit, Laura is downing her seventeenth shot - "Darling, you should leave it now, look at me to cheer you up, I'm a bird!", Cora says and takes the shot from her hand to start dancing around the table, both of her arms extended to mimic an airplane, at which Laura finally starts to laugh again – and an unexpected smile breaks out on Harry's face. Not because Cora is hilarious – she usually is – but because he can suddenly name the feeling he usually gets when he turns around the key in the door lock: This flat feels like home. Privet Drive Number Four never did, Grimmauld Place never really got the chance, and Hogwarts is not an option anymore, but even in his Gryffindor dormitory there were days when he could feel the coldness from the outer world seeping in, and nobody there to shield him from it. The world is less cold now, but being here with all of them taking care of each other, his heart is, too.

Cora plops down again, and they settle on lighter, but earnest conversation – like Cora's dickhead of a prof, who always gives her worse marks because of her blue hair.

"... and there are so many other moments, when I simply want to scream: 'Fuck you, fuck this course, my hair brilliant, I am brilliant, I don't need you anyway!', but I'm a coward, so I never do and Professor Dennings keeps on exploiting his dictatorial position."

"Let's leave it at 'authoritarian', shall we, Cora dear?", Draco says with a smile and pats her knee.

"Whatever.", Cora concludes, less tipsy than Harry expected, "We're just young once, so I think we should drink to never being oppressive assholes if we can manage it, yes? Luke, pass me the salt."

She reaches out with her hand.

"Actually, it's Draco.", he replies and hands her the cellar.

"No, it's salt, Luke, the... what?" The dumbfounded expression on her face can only be topped by Harry's, whose jaw sacked down a few centimetres.

"My name.", Draco replies smoothly, while the others continue to stare at him in awe, "It's actually Draco. I didn't like it when I was in school, so I thought I'd use my middle name here, but I felt like I was being untrue to you. So please, call me Draco."

Nate slowly shakes his head and Laura's face is a bit expressionless. "But, Luke, err, I mean...", Cora gulps. "Draco." Harry can see how foreign the name feels on her tongue, just like 'Luke' did for him in the first week. "That's a bit of a shock. "

"Actually, it isn't.", Laura slurs (but only a little), "I was wondering from the beginning what kind of constellation 'Luke' was supposed to be when he told us his whole family was named after stars and such."

Nate laughs at that, and Cora does too, but Harry can still only gape at Draco and doesn't even manage to mouth a 'thank you' when he catches his stare.

 _I know_ , he hears Draco in his head, _it's been overdue._ Harry wants to shake his head, but can still only gulp.

Draco doesn't take his eyes off him. _And this round is on you. Your apology was more subtle, I guess._

A small, earnest smile plays around Draco's lips again, and Harry's heart starts racing.

 _There are no rounds._ , he tries to think back without expressing too much with his face, as he can feel Cora taking it all in, _There's just... decency. And I am sorry I doubted yours._

He sees Draco swallowing, and something tells him that it was him who caused him to do so, and the warm feeling from yesterday evening is back, pushing and pulling at his insides. It reminds Harry of his first kiss with Ginny, and a hard blush hits his cheeks.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Cora elbowing Laura and whispering something into her ear, squealing as silently as possible for her, but he can't bring himself to look away from Draco when he replies: _Me too. Although I never really doubted your decency._ and Harry realises that there's a name for that fuzzy feeling in his stomach. It's his dawning crush on Draco Malfoy.

 

Dawning realisations and revelations have never been Harry's kind of thing, he knew that in Divination and he knows that now. So instead of spending his time musing over the fact that Draco still hasn't claimed back the scarf he lent him, he busies himself with what he supposes people call routine:

He meets up weekly with Ron and Hermione, and cooks for the five of them on the same day. Every other night, he hears wailing from Nate's room, who is still working on (and still despairing of) his thesis, so he goes over with a melted chocolate frog in milk, that Nate comes to suspect contains whiskey, because it makes him feel calm and content enough to work on.

Sometimes, when he catches Laura studying them with her quiet expression from a corner of the room, he has the feeling she can see through him or Draco, who has bewitched old schoolbooks to look like Muggle bestsellers when he's reading them on the couch. Laura can see through pretty much everybody, but if she does with him and Draco, she has chosen not to call them out on any shenanigans and occupy herself with various one-night stands.

Cora has long accepted her two new best friends to be a bit weird, especially around each other, but apart from giggling when Draco and Harry's words get a bit sharper around the edge and their looks more poignant, as well as playfully pointing out the sexual tension between them, Harry enjoys her company a great deal and reevaluates everything he's ever thought Muggles could think about magic with every story she tells him over the laundry. Cora is a truly admirable and magnificent person, and he can see why Draco picked her off all people around campus to show him through Muggle life, but whatever Draco might fear, he can't find it in him to be attracted to her. She's too much like a mix of Hermione and Ginny and Tonks for that.

Draco on the other hand, is enticing in a way Harry never thought possible, with his quirks and impulsive actions around Cora, but also in the solemn mood Harry sometimes catches him in, when he knows he shouldn't have brought him back a copy of _The Prophet_ from Diagon Alley, and he wants to wrap his arms around Draco's pointy shoulders to show him that yes, there is a tomorrow and that as long as he can accept himself after all that happened, the other wizards will, too.

And Harry wants to tell him that, on one of the many Sundays Draco and Harry have the flat to themselves, because the other three usually drive back home to see their parents, but never finds it in him. Although they have been a bit awkward at first, Harry has come to look forward to these Sundays, when they let the coffee be made by magic, levitate themselves to the bathroom, catch up with Quidditch and argue over teams, but also teach each other spells that can come in handy in Muggle life. It's a magic zone they share with each other, where they can truly be themselves again and Harry knows, deep in his heart, he would've missed magic far too much had he been alone.

 

It's the morning after one such Sunday, the morning of Halloween, when Harry wanders into the kitchen at the crack of dawn to find Draco having already prepared two cups of coffee (his wand hidden snugly under a dress jacket).

He jawns a “Thanks, Malfoy”, as Draco hands his cup over with the words “Thought you might appreciate, Potter”. No matter what they tell Cora, they never really gave up the last name-thing.

Harry blows his coffee and watches Draco as he carefully takes a sip of his. It's funny how he can never be sure what he's going to do next, Draco can change moods the way he changes his clothes, but now Harry has come to discover things about Draco that create a rounder picture and leave Harry unable to go back to ickle school feuds.

He knows how Draco named Dobby when he came to them.

How Draco enjoyed going to the Muggle elections and wearing these weird clothes, because all his life other people had decided things for him.

And how he doesn't believe in a life that doesn't consist of hide-and-seek anymore, which makes Harry incredibly sad.

Because in this moment, when he sees the rising sun reflecting in Draco's sleepy eyes, putting a shadow to the light crinkles next to them, Harry knows deep in his heart that, after all they've been through, he wishes someone had protected Draco from himself, and if he's being completely honest, he wishes he would've been that person.

Draco notices his gaze and cracks a small smile at him, a smile of morning conspiracy and secrets over coffee, and Harry wants to reach out and touch him, because there's a slow ache in his chest that makes his smile in return ruminative around the edges. Draco is not some handsome hipster he passed on the street, he is not just the helpful roommate, but he somehow managed to become so precious to Harry, the mere thought of not having him next door makes him feel slightly sick.

Right into his morning wonderings, their attention is attracted by a turning key in the keyhole and a slightly swaying Laura with ruffled hair, who is trying to sneak by the kitchen and back to her room.

“Good morning, Laura!”, Draco says with a giddiness that hurts even Harry's ears, “Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Laura just turns around and slowly shakes his head at him while gesturing at her ears.

“Some coffee before bed? Heard it helps.”, Harry offers.

Laura just shakes her head a bit more and nods towards her room with a weak smile.

“Oh, has she lost her voice?”, Draco drawls a bit, but it's only half-serious as he looks from Harry to Laura with big eyes in mock-surprise and Harry already gives him the _Come on, don't be like that_ -look. “How could that have happened? Was there anything to celebrate yesterday? Oh, right! Halloween! How could I've forgot!”

He grins at her, while her expression remains one of embarrassed annoyance.

“And let me see, you're wearing a sweater that I've never seen on you... You spent the night... Well, I'd say-”

“Come on”, Harry interrupts him with a warm smile to Laura and him, “let her get into bed and mock her when she's fully attentive again.”

Draco regards his idea with a considering nod, while Laura snorts and shakes her head one last time before she turns to her room. “Seriously, guys? It's like you're my dads. Happy Halloween.”

As probably intended of her, both of their smiles drop and Harry turns to Draco, who's biting his lip, with a wary expression. After a beat, he shrugs. It's really not that big of a deal.

_I mean, this is okay, isn't it?_ , he tentatively thinks, knowing Draco usually catches the thoughts he especially sends out to him (and hoping, praying these are the only ones). 

Draco shrugs as well and sips his coffee.  _'Course. Everything's fine._

 

And it was. Everything was okay, incredibly so even.

Until one day mid-November the heating breaks, and Harry finds Cora, Nate and Laura all huddled together in the cosiest sweaters they own and two blankets each on the couch, watching this weird TV Show about a timetravelling alien that his aunt and uncle had loved so much on the TV, warming their hands on their tea mugs and eying Harry with knitted eyebrows as he stumbles in the living room in his pajamas.

„Aren't you freezing?“, Laura asks and shudders at his sight.

„Uh, no?“, Harry replies and self-consciously scratches the back of his head, revealing a strip of tummy that causes the other two to shudder as well. It's true, he never needed Hermione's little blue fires, cosy as they were, because when he listens to his heartbeat, he can feel the magic pulsing through his veins, a little explosion to his fingertips every second, his pulse accelerating along with his warm breath.

That's why he never bothered with learning a proper Warming Charm, but immediately turns as he feels Draco casting one before he emerges out of his room. In his pajamas as well.

„Oh God, another one of the sort!“, Cora complains loudly at the sight of him, „Could you please both put some clothes on, I think my toes will fall of if I keep looking at you any longer!“, and covers her eyes with her blanket.

Draco catches Harry's gaze, who has to suppress a grin.

„Coffee?“, he suggests and wanders of to the kitchen without following Cora's advice.

Harry follows suit and fetches two mugs out of the cupboard as Draco plops down on the counter next to the electric kettle (that always has trouble working in his vicinity) and asks, after a sidelong glance to Harry: „I sense no charm around you, Potter. How are you doing it?“

Harry shrugs and puts coffee in their mugs, before non-chalantly adding: „How do you know it's a Warming Charm keeping you hot and not my charme?“

It's out before he can help it, he can feel the sudden tension, aggravated by the noise of the boiling kettle, and doesn't know what to do from here. With Ron, he'd have shot him a mock-seductive glare and then licked his lips before getting hit by a wash cloth, he'd have winked at Nate, who would've blushed a lot, and with anybody else, he might have tried to ease the tension by doing something silly or looking sheepish, both of which is not really an option with Malfoy.

So he slowly and level-headedly meets his gaze, eyebrows raised a pinch and nostrils slightly flaring, but none of them says a word until the water is boiling and Draco moves to brew their coffee, handing Harry his without further comment and leaves the kitchen to join the others on the couch.

Now Harry feels sheepish, and like he has said something really stupid, but only until he finishes his coffee and sees its grounds, which clearly read:  _And here I was thinking, 'charming someone out of their pants' had something to do with actual magic._

The grin spreading on Harry's face has nothing to do with it either, but when the magic swirling in his veins makes his belly tingle, he knows why it feels like it.

 

Before long, it's nightfall again, and while the other four go to bed, content with a day spent doing nothing, Harry lies in bed shivering, noticing that despite still _being_ warm down to his feet, everything around him has the felt temperature of an icicle and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to get comfortable in his sheets. Which is how he finds himself padding over to Draco's room in the middle of the night, careful not to wake anybody.

„Draco?“, he whispers, knocking on the door.

A second later the door is ripped open, and Harry, who attempted to listen at the door, nearly stumbles into Draco, who is casually leaning against the door frame, eying him with a schooled, yet amused expression.

„What.“

Contrary to Harry, Draco doesn't seem to have any inclination to keep his voice down.

Harry checks the hall, gestures behind Draco and says: „Sorry if I'm disturbing something, but uh... Would you mind if I come in?“

Not saving him the well known raised eyebrows at that point, Draco pushes the door open completely and gestures for Harry to step in without saying another word until Harry is seated on his bed and the door closed again. Turning around with the grace of a dragonfly, he gives Harry, who is sitting hunched on his bed, a quick once-over before asking: „Well, what bestows me with the honour of having the famous Harry Potter in my chambers at night?“

Harry swallows the comment about _chambers_ quite literally.

„I know this sounds stupid, but could you show me how to do one of those charms you did this morning? I never seemed to need them and now I can't sleep because my bed is too cold even for me to heat up.“

„What, your _charme_ isn't working on your sheets? Who'd have thought...“

Draco almost chuckles. Harry just goes with it, assuming that this part of mocking drawl is just what Draco needs to have a normal conversation when he's feeling insecure. Though why he should feel insecure right now remains a mystery to him.

„Yes, I can show you, it's easy enough, but I had honestly thought you were simply freezing yourself in commiseration with the Muggles.“

Now they both have their wands in their hand, and despite both only wearing their sleeping clothes, it almost feels a bit like Hogwarts again.

„I mean, I can understand that“, Draco carries on, „I had originally planned to leave the Wizarding World for some distinct time and not use magic at all during that, but you know how that worked out: I found myself missing it a lot, so I kept apparating now and then and doing the dishes with my wand when nobody's watching. Well, except you.“

Harry offers him a hesitant smile, finding it endearing how Draco takes to rambling when Cora is not around to safe him from awkward situations and sharing personal facts in doing so. Honesty is strangely fitting those pointed features.

„I never planned to leave the Wizarding World.“, Harry offers himself. „It's just... I fled to America, and there still were people breaking down in tears when I entered a shop, touching my face and my scar because they couldn't believe I was real, telling me their horrible stories and who they'd lost all over, and... sorry, I'm like one of them.” He looks down on his hands. “But I just wanted to forget for some time and then at first I was so angry when you were here, because with you here, reading your Potions books on the couch and cleaning the kitchen with a casual 'scourgify' I couldn't. I just couldn't. But lately I've come to think that, maybe... it's for the better?“

He looks up to find Draco's eyes boring into him, which makes him feel rooted to the spot, unable determine whether Draco is intrigued or angry with him and is about to throw him out, because just like him, Draco is here for some distance.

To patiently wait for the silence _after_ the storm.

„ _Nubes Aliquantus Aestifer._ “

A cloud of warm, invisible dust settles around Harry and his bedsheets, as Draco withdraws his wand that Harry had thought he'd hex him with, and Draco moves to slump down next to him on the bed, head on his knees, his long and slender body wrapped around itself like like a fragile cardboard box  – So beautiful but broken inside.

„This is the turn of things.“, he whispers after some time, when Harry has long put his hand on his back, rubbing in slow circles. „But it's what I never was or will be: brave. Over the years I learned to put on a display of indifference whenever something that was likely to bother me happened, which was doomed to escalate sooner or later.“ Harry isn't sure if he sees tears glistening in Draco's eyes in the moonlight when he turns his head to him. „Harry, I know I was a rude bastard in second year, which I hope you can forgive me for, mostly because you weren't any better, but you have to believe me, I never really wanted part in this war. I know, I never spoke up, and not doing anything to stop it is also a decision of action, more severe maybe than any other, I see that now.“

Harry wants to reply something but Malfoy doesn't let him.

„No, Harry, before you ask any questions, I don't need you to like me or anything, it's hard enough for myself to like me after all that has happened. It's just that... I know you're the better man.

I have accepted that long ago and a tiny, irrational part of me had always hoped that you would not only save us, but me as well.“ His sigh that indicates how long he had wanted to say this, but how much longer he had also denied it to himself, makes Harry flinch. He is now looking him directly in the eyes. „And you did. I will forever fail to explain how, but you did, and for that...“, he inhales audibly and cracks a tiny smile, „for that I am thankful.“

He exhales in the silence that follows, that Harry is unsure of how to break. The truth, that there wasn't much saving from his part because Draco managed extraordinarily well on himself seems to destroy everything and „No problem, mate.“, seems like a horrible mixture of over-familiarity and disregard, so he is incredibly relieved when Draco adds a: „Wow. That was harder than I'd thought.“, and smiles at Harry, his eyes now lighting up with the moonlight and an for Harry still unexperienced sincerity. It's so prepossessing Harry is afraid to blink and wants to burn the image forever onto his eyelids.

His hand still resting on Draco's back, Harry senses the situation turning awkward due to the heavy emotions both had repressed until now, but then decides for the best relief he has come to experience in his acquaintance with Hermione, and attempts to hug Draco, just as he is retreating an inch from his hand, which leads to him toppling over and bringing Draco down to the floor with him.

For a second or two they just blink at each other, until Draco says: „Staggering move, Potter. Quite literally.“ and the laughter finally bubbling from their throats feels like a long-held breath they are sharing, somewhat awkwardly entangled on the floor of Draco's bedroom.

 

They are still laughing, and therefore not noticing, when Cora comes over and opens the door without knocking.

„What the f...“, she starts and then changes her mind as they are both guiltily blinking up at her against the light from the hall, „I guess, I'll sleep easier if I just don't ask. I just wanted to tell you that the landlord has just phoned, yes, phoned at 1.15am, that the heating was down due maintenance or whatever, and will be put back in charge tomorrow at 8am.“

Draco and Harry, who haven't made a move of disentangling themselves from each others limbs yet, simply lie there nodding and trying to look as unmischievous as possible, until Cora wishes them a good night with a sly smile and shuffles off to Laura.

With her retreat, a somber silence fills Draco's room, and despite the lack of actual light Harry feels like he is truly seeing Draco for the first time in his life.

His clear eyes, that aren't soulless like he had always pictured them in his memory, how honest his impression appears when it isn't frightened or distorted from condescension and the story his quickening breath and the heartbeat Harry can feel under his hand tell, just like his pallid pink lips, that look so much softer than the words they're usually trading.

Draco notices his gaze, just as Harry expects him to, as well as to raise a deprecatory eyebrow, but Draco's expression stays open and earnest.

The ruthless honesty takes Harry aback and he feels his breath involuntarily hitching, as if his body is surprised by his mind's decision to leave some out-dated prejudices behind.

„Looks like I don't have to teach you these Warming Charms after all.“

Draco's smile is slow and tentative and almost a little bit sad, as he drops his gaze to where his hand is resting on Harry's waist. Lying painfully still, Harry waits with his reply until Draco is looking at him again.

„Maybe another time.“, he says so quietly it's hardly more than a breath. „To be honest, I don't feel like I'd need them tonight anyway.“

He sees Draco's pupils dilating in the moonlight, the insinuation now hanging upon them as something they both know they want and feel impossible to act upon, until Draco is the one to muster his courage for once, and carefully but a bit gangly take off Harry's glasses with his other hand. Half-blind then, Harry moves his hand up from where it was lying on Draco's back to dangle his fingers through the fuzzy hair at Draco's neck, before mapping out the edge of Draco's jaw with his index finger. He feels the warm breath on his thump more intensely than any Warming Charm before he gently tips it on Draco's bottom lip that feels even softer than it looks. Drawing in a breath, he crooks his thumb to pull the lip down a bit and Draco's mouth open, causing Draco's breath to hitch as well. For a second they both lie there, holding in a still breath as if it was the last thing they were holding back from each other, until Draco's mouth quivers into a small smile under Harry's thumb, so he slides his hand back to the side of his neck and moves in to capture Draco's mouth as if it was the last source for air in the room. The hand at his waist tightens and another curls deeply into his messy hair, causing him to completely shut his lidded eyes and start placing little, breathy kisses in quick succession to Draco's bottom lip, until Draco smoothly sucks in his upper lip and sneaks his leg between Harry's.

With his other arm, Harry props himself up a bit until he is lying half atop on Draco and glides his wet lips over his open mouth again, then sealing it with his tongue that is caught by Draco's.

A low moan escapes his throat, and Harry gets goosebumps all over, feeling their breathing mix as if they were slowly merging together. Draco's hand wanders to the small of his back, a warm presence aligning their hips, and his whole body feels on fire now, his muscles clenching from the sudden need to be even closer to Draco, who is tugging at his hair while sighing into his mouth as their tongues purposefully glide over each other, smoothly teasing and curling around one another as if they had been doing this for ages. A soft sigh gets struck in Harry's throat when he has to stop for air and experiences the advantage of being nearsighted for the first time in his life: With everything else a blurry mess, the intensity of Draco's gaze is of an overwhelming magnitude that makes Harry squirm to find directed at him.

Then Draco starts to place little kisses along his jaw, nipping at his skin with his lips until he reaches his ear and whispers: “Move this to the bed?” and sneaks both of his hands under Harry's shirt.

The immediate growing tightness in his boxers makes it impossible for Harry to do more than nod and help Draco get his shirt off, before lying down on his bed. Draco is already back, now leaning over Harry's bare torso, looking at his pale chest in the moonlight, before kissing Harry again, who opens his mouth for him in an instant, while tugging at Draco's shirt to pull it off.

“Even if you don't need me to like you”, he whispers, when Draco moves to pull the shirt over his head, “let me tell you, I do.”

“Then show it, Potter.”, Draco says with a mischievous grin and continues to nib at Harry's throat, sucking the soft skin between his teeth.

Harry can't suppress the guttural sound he makes then, and bucks up his hips, all of a sudden very eager to do exactly what Draco suggested.

Draco smiles against his throat, and processes to plant little wet kisses down Harry's chest and abdomen, leaving Harry writhing when he licks along the line of flesh at the rim of his boxers before slowly pulling them down.

“Oh Merlin”, Harry mumbles, immediately running his hand through Draco's hair when he starts to place kisses and bites on his inner thighs, before licking along the underside of his shaft.

He looks at Harry through lidded-eyes, and this alone lets Harry's insides squirm with euphoria, before Draco even swirls his tongue around the top of his penis and takes him in his mouth. Harry's grip in his hair tightens as he tries to keep his hips in place, but he can't help the low rumbles and moans escaping his throat whenever Draco moves his tongue around him. The soft sounds Draco's wet mouth makes between his legs are enough to make him gasp for air already, but before he can tell Draco to stop, Draco has moved his quick tongue to his balls, massaging them with slick finesse.

“Draco”, Harry pants finally, “I think you- you really should-”

He sucks in a breath when he feels Draco's finger at his hole, easing the rim in rhythm with his tongue.

Harry opens his eyes and looks down to find Draco watching him with an attentive expression.  _You really think so?_ he asks Harry in his head and sits back between Harry's legs, not breaking the eye-contact and keeping on pushing carefully at his arse. Having Draco's voice in his head and his finger practically inside him, Harry is overrun by an intense feeling of intimacy and has to look away from Draco for a moment, because his heart won't stop beating a fierce staccato.  _Yes.,_ he thinks it's unnecessary to even direct it to Draco, because Draco should be able to read all of him in this moment, he feels so open to him,  _Yes, I trust you._

Draco draws in a breath at that, Harry doesn't know if from surprise or not, but doesn't do anything further until Harry looks at him again, which is when he finally pushes in his finger and moves to kiss Harry again, slow and wet and messy, while the movement of his finger along with the lube he magically procured into his hand is of cautious precision, as if he was afraid to hurt Harry in any way.

_ More. _ , Harry thinks, although he's unsure if Draco's mind is not already embed in his, because that's what he would do if he could carelessly use Legilimency.

Draco adds another finger, and then another one, before leaning back and watching Harry watch him coat himself with lube and moving back between Harry's legs. 

_ Okay _ ?, he asks, and Harry just nods, gripping Draco's waist and guiding the first thrust with him, the smack of flesh on flesh that always sounds the same, but special every time. Draco starts moving slowly, as if each thrust needed a reaffirmation from Harry that he wants it, that he wants this, that he wants to have sex with Draco, and Harry's heart aches for the raw insecurity that must last in Draco's, and slings his legs around Draco's thighs, clinging onto him like an anchor. 

Draco's movements are mechanical yet sensual at first, but once he hits Harry's prostate, causing Harry to draw in a short breath, he picks up his speed and lets go off himself a little. Harry feels a small part of himself he had been holding back go as well then, and closes his eyes smiling, to indulge in the feeling that sparks through his body with every thrust, until Draco reaches between their bodies and strokes Harry's dick rougher then expected.

When Harry opens his eyes to look at Draco, who has his closed and bites on his lower lip, his climax takes him off guard, and he feels himself coming between their bodies and all over Draco's hand, satisfaction settling in his loins and a wide grin spreading on his face, but he sees only small white spots dancing around his vision of mussed up blonde hair.

After a few thrusts more, Draco comes inside of him as well, letting out a final growl until sinking his forehead on Harry's chest, panting avidly. 

Harry curls his hand into the hair at Draco's neck and they both lie there for a few seconds, coming to their senses and settling back into the world again.

Draco lets a last heavy breath flow out of his lungs, sitting back on his heels for a moment just looking at Harry with wide pupils and an expression Harry completely fails to read. Then a tentative smile spreads on his face, almost as if he's flustered to be looking so openly, and Harry only hears him in his head when he says: _Merlin was said to be magic himself, to have it pulsing through his veins like blood. What is it with you?,_ before he leans down to place a soft kiss on Harry's forehead and lies down next to him, curling under the crook of his arm as if the place was made for him and rests his head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry takes his hand in his, and examines it closely, slowly tugging on each fingertip and following the lines of his palm with his finger, to avoid Draco's face when he replies: “I don't know.”

Draco nestles a bit closer and looks down as Harry sweeps over his fingernails.

“I'm still so new to all of this.”, Harry shakes his head an inch so Draco's hair tickles his cheek, “And this is all so weird.”

Draco moves his gaze to Harry's eyes. “What? Us?”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Us? No, not really.”, he takes Draco's hand into his and holds on to it, “If we're being honest, we've always been circling around each other. Of course we didn't know how all of this would end back then, but we had lots of opportunities to let each other be and simply live in peace, yet... We chose not too.”

A secret smile steals across Draco's face when Harry turns his face to kiss his hair and draws him closer, and he whispers: “And you know what? I'm actually happy about it.”

Harry gives him another kiss, but continues: “No, we were never weird. But this whole situation I've been trying to explain to everybody and nobody seems to listen or understand. Living here, I feel like an orphan all over again, with nobody taking me by the hand when times get hard, and back in Diagon Alley, I feel like an oddball nobody can take his eyes or hands off. And I've been dealing with this my whole life more or less, always hoping one day it would just... stop.”

He let's go off Draco's hand to pull at his hair. Draco lets his hand rest gently on his belly and hooks one leg over his.

“I know. And you're so unique, nobody ever will understand completely. That's just how people are, they don't like to think outside of their bubble if they have the feeling it could make them uncomfortable.”, He starts drawing small circles around Harry's bellybutton, not looking Harry in the eye. “But believe me, it was similar for me. I was spat on in Diagon Alley, shops wouldn't take my 'filthy money', and the only people I had were my parents, but I felt so estranged from them: My father was a fallen man. My mother couldn't fix him, and slowly despaired over it. I came here, because I had no other choice, when I was told I couldn't take my job until 'The dust has settled a bit.', and if Cora hadn't been poking and prodding at me everyday, I'm not sure how far I had come at all.”

He looks back up again at Harry, whose heart is beating an avid rhythm in his chest and takes his face in his hands to try and kiss some of the pain away.

“This”, Harry whispers, “This is... I can enjoy something so much. But I still don't know how to go on sometimes, what for.”

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Draco's.

“The Germans actually have a word for that”, Draco replies when he has opened them again and props his head up on his arm to see Harry better, “ _Weltschmerz_. It describes this state of mind where you sort of know you can't achieve what you long for, but can't help longing for it anyway, and it destroys your inner peace until you don't know what you even longed for anymore...”, Draco trails off, as Harry bites his lip and nods slowly, showing him that if he needed an expression, this would be it.

To relief the tension, Harry exhales sharply and decides to change the topic. They can still talk about this later.

„So you speak German?“, he draws the arm around Draco's shoulders a bit closer.

„And French, if you must know. Before I got into Hogwarts, I had a German nurse who was educated in Beauxbatons and set to raise me bilingual by talking to me in both languages, sometimes switching within one and the other during the same conversation.“, Draco elaborates, his head sinking back to Harry's shoulder and glancing up at him now and then.

„Well, that certainly explains a lot of the things you got up to at school..“

Harry stops as Draco raises his eyebrows at him and already wants to say _sorry, shit, I know, too early, I wasn't thinking, I..._ when he sees a smirk beginning to curl at the edge of Draco's lips as he replies: „Well, at least I've got a pedantic nanny with a brain too big for her own good to blame, what's your excuse?“

And Harry's face lights up with delight, not because this is the best comeback he's ever heard out of Draco's mouth – and he somehow really had been looking forward to that – but because he thinks it's incredible how easily he and Draco have managed to ignore what lies behind them, for it is what they both came here for, and maybe, just maybe, because his inside gave a familiar twang of nostalgia.

He would never have thought he had missed Draco Malfoy. And he hadn't. But getting to know him all over again from a completely different perspective changes things.

What if we had become friends when we met as children in Madame Malkins'. What if I would have been sorted into Slytherin after all. What if I could have shown you a way out when we were teenagers. What if we got a second chance for a purpose.

These are the questions keeping Harry up, not because they are an actual cause for worry, but because Harry allows himself, after a really long time, to fantasise about his Hogwarts' years again. His Hogwarts' years and all there are to come.

Draco shuffles even closer and catches Harry's hand that had begun playing with his again.

„Hey“, he breathes into Harry's ear, „are you going to lie there thinking all night?“

Harry looks down at Draco's face that is resting with peacefully closed eyes against his shoulder.

„Does it bother you?“, he asks.

„A bit“, Draco crunches his nose and blinks up at him. „But maybe just because I know to which better use you could put this pretty head of yours.“

His grin is mischievous and quite possibly the most beautiful thing Harry has ever seen.

„Oh? And what might that be?“, he asks with a soft smile.

He gets a gentle nudge to his ribs and a sweet kiss to the edge of his mouth as an answer.

„I see“, Harry grins and chases after Draco's mouth himself, „that is indeed a better idea.“

And as he nestles himself properly around Draco to snog him senseless, the thought crosses his mind, that, well, maybe running from things necessarily brings them back into your life. But you should never rule out that perhaps those things are exactly the kind of magic you've been looking for all along.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [pynchie](www.pynchie.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, come say hi or drop me a line in the comments if you liked this one!


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